s probably neither more nor less than one of the many
Frenchwomen of her rank in life who like to skate out on the thin edge
of excitement without any intention of going through. There are always
women like my aunt Bayford to think the worst of people of that sort,
and to say it."

"And yet I don't see how that justifies Monsieur de Bienville."

"It doesn't justify; it only explains. Responsibility presses less
heavily on the individual when it's shared."

"But wouldn't the person--you'll forgive me, dear, won't you, if I'm
going too far?--wouldn't the person who has to take his part in that
kind of responsibility be a doubtful keeper of one's happiness?"

Miss Grimston, half lowering her eyes, looked at her visitor with
slumberous suspension of expression, and made no reply.

"If a man isn't good--" Miss Lucilla began again, tremblingly.

"No man is perfect."

"True, dear; and yet are there not certain qualities which we ought to
consider as essentials--?"

"Monsieur de Bienville has those qualities for me."

"But surely, dear, you can't mean--?"

"Yes, I do mean."

The avowal was made quietly, with the still bearing of one who gives a
few drops of confession out of deep oceans of reserve. Miss Lucilla
gazed at her in astonishment. That her parents should sacrifice her was
not surprising; but that she should be willing to sacrifice herself went
beyond the limits of thought. The revelation that Marion could actually
love the man was so startling that it shocked her out of her timidity,
loosening the strings of her eloquence and unsealing the sources of her
maternal tenderness. There was nothing original in Miss Lucilla's
subsequent line of argument. It was the old, oft-uttered, futile appeal
to the head, when the heart has already spoken. It premised the
possibility of placing one's affections where one cannot give one's
respect, regardless of the fact that the thing is done a thousand times
a day. It reasoned, it predicted, it implored, with an effect no more
disintegrating on the girl's decision than moonbeams make upon a
mountain. Through it all, she sat and listened with the veiled eyes and
mysterious impassivity which gave to her personality a curiously
incalculable quality, as of a force presenting none of the ordinary
phenomena by which to measure or compute it.

It was not till Miss Lucilla touched on the subject of honor that she
obtained any sign of the effect she was producing. It was no more, o